Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [100]
Despite that fear, he couldn’t continue to love her, couldn’t give her the words in him, the words she wanted to hear. He had no right to offer her the future he so desperately wanted until she knew all. There was no other way. He wasn’t stupid; he knew this was the necessary next step in their relationship. Only, he was so bloody scared. Scared of losing her. He’d never known true happiness. Until Asha. He didn’t want to make a choice between Des and Asha. He loved them both. Damned if he betrayed Des. Damned if he lost Asha by telling her the truth. Damned if he continued lying.
Asha came from the office and fixed a lemonade. She gave him a smile that hit his heart. A coward, he swallowed back his need to come clean, and instead soaked up the radiant happiness she brought to him.
“Well, that’s sorted out,” she informed him. “I have a caterer from Lexington doing the Halloween party. They were giving me a headache about orange and black cupcakes.”
Sam stuck his head through the serving window. “About time you got in here, girl. My Chicken What Du Hell is ready. Somebody needs to eat it. Set yourselves down and enjoy. Might as well, with that storm this place will stay dead.”
Jago laughed, following Asha to a booth by the window. He watched as the cook brought out two plates heaped with food. “Not sure what this is, but sure smells good.”
“Tastes even better. Make you forget about Tex-Mex. Enjoy.” Sam grinned and shuffled back to the kitchen.
The dish turned out to be big chunks of roast chicken, noodles, tomatoes and onions, in a lemon sauce with a hint of white wine. It was delicious, as Sam promised, but Jago couldn’t fully enjoy it because his guilty conscience gnawed at his mind. He cleaned his plate so didn’t really have room for cheesecake. Even so, he accepted the dessert and coffee, prolonging what he knew he must do.
When he finished, he pushed his plate aside. “You mind if I smoke?”
“Go ahead. I rather like that cherry smell.” Asha took another bite of cheesecake and smiled dreamily, savoring the taste.
Jago exhaled a stream of smoke away from her, and fought off panic. His hand shook as he reached to pull the ashtray closer. Stalling. “We need to talk.”
Lightning suddenly struck across the road, the following thunder reverberating through the whole diner. The lights flickered and then died. There was something strangely intimate being in the empty diner in the dimness. Jago hoped it was not an omen of Asha’s reaction to what he was about to tell her.
“Asha, we’ve only known each other a few days; somehow it seems longer. As if I’ve known you for years. I think it best if I tell you a few things—”
“Asha! Oh, Asha!” Colin ran into the restaurant. “Oo-oooo—it’s so exciting!”
Feeling like he just escaped the hangman’s noose, Jago laughed uneasily. “Oh? I’d have never guessed.”
“Asha . . . you are . . . not . . . going . . . to believe this. This is . . . soooooo cool.”
Asha smiled, getting up to refill her lemonade. “I can hardly wait to hear.”
Colin beamed proudly. “I got a phone call from Stuart Hersh.”
Jago pushed out of the booth and followed her to perch on a stool. “Who’s Stuart Hersh? A locksmith?”
“Funny. Nope, Hersh handles the bookings for Bobby ‘Boris’ Pickett. I’d tried several months back to see if Pickett could come to the Halloween party and perform. I mean, would that be cool or what? He was booked solid—popular time of the year for him—so it was no go. But get this—Hersh called to see if we still wanted to hire him. There was a cancellation. He said Pickett’s hosting a Halloween party in Louisville on the Friday before Halloween, and then one on Saturday and Sunday in Lexington. So, he’ll be in the area. If we give him lodging from Sunday through Thursday, he could do our Halloween gig on Wednesday. We could announce it at the drive-in. We could do some posters and handbills. So, can we?”
The lights flickered on, then the jukebox slowly came to life and began playing “Monster Mash.” Jago stared at the shiny Wurlitzer. “Freaky.